The Garden of Darkness

“We might regret this,” said Jem softly.

Abel looked at them.

“He’s not like Rick,” said Clare. “Rick had some kind of an agenda. And he’s certainly not like Darian.” She hesitated. Abel spoke.

“Ready?” Abel said, hoisting his satchel.

And with that, as if it were taken for granted, Abel, with his pink poncho and dirty satchel, joined them on the journey to the Master.

“But please,” he said to Clare as they started walking. “Tell your dog not to bite me. I’ve never seen a dog that big.”

“He’ll get used to you,” said Clare. “Probably.”

In the afternoon, the terrain got steeper. Even so, Ramah had taken the lead, and she didn’t flag. She strode ahead briskly. Clare and the others were soon out of breath with trying to keep up. But nothing seemed to stop Abel from talking.

“This climb is too steep,” he said.

“It’s just a slope,” said Clare. “Look at Ramah. She’s not even breathing hard.”

“My feet hurt.”

Ramah waited for them patiently at the crest of the hill and then turned and continued. Once the road levelled out, Abel started telling Clare and Jem stories about himself. He didn’t leave out any of the lurid details. In fact, he didn’t seem to leave out anything at all.

“I used to like ghost stories,” he said. “But now they’re not scary anymore. Pest was scary. It was pretty gruesome watching my parents die. They howled and screamed, and when they really screamed, you know, like they meant it, I gave them water. Then Geordie, my brother, died, but I gave him all the water he wanted. And there were flies everywhere. I mean everywhere. And the smell!”

Ramah, who had let them catch up, heard the last part of this.

“We all have a version of that particular story,” she said.

“You’ve never really told yours,” Clare pointed out.

“No,” said Ramah.

“Well, I haven’t had a chance to tell mine to anyone,” said Abel. “Anyway, the flies and the smell are what drove me out, right out of the town to those shacks. So now I’m alone. And there’s no ‘get me a beer,’ or ‘find your own dinner,’ or ‘go wash your brother.’”

“You’ve had a rough time,” said Ramah.

“Yes. And I’m skipping over the part with the cigarette burns. And then the way they used to go after Geordie with the belt. When they were drunk, they would really lay into us. And then my father would beat up my mother. And then they would both fall asleep.”

“That’s horrible,” said Clare.

“I suppose it was,” said Abel. “I don’t miss them. But I miss Geordie.” He paused. “Sometimes I think that maybe even my parents didn’t deserve Pest.”

“There’s nothing you could have done about it,” said Clare.

“I could have given them more water.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t.”

That evening Clare slipped away and dug her own hole near the latrine. She had her period, and she needed to bury the used tampons. Sometimes their lives seemed to revolve around little more than digging latrines, burying waste, finding water and food, keeping as clean as they could. Their bodies were needy little islands.

She was sorry she had been short with Abel. Having her period made her cranky.

She stood up only to find herself face-to-face with Bear, who must have followed her from camp. He turned as she turned, and they walked back together. He had her back. He would always have her back.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE





PARTING WAYS





THE DREAM WAS very real.

In the city, the buildings had been eaten away and loomed over them like the skeletons of giants. She and Jem were surrounded by a horde of children.

Clare woke and sat bolt-upright in the darkness. They were camped somewhere beside the great road to the city.

As her dream faded, she rolled over to look at Sheba. Clare wondered if they would have made it even this far without the cart filled with food and warm clothing.

Soon the others were up, and they were on the road again, eating breakfast as they walked. True to her farm upbringing, Sheba had made no complaint about the journey so far, not even on the hills. When they came to really steep slopes, she kept on going even as her sides became slathered in sweat. Most of the time they walked to lighten her load. Bear loped along beside Sheba, who pointedly ignored him.

The route to the city was flanked by battered houses alternating with businesses that looked as if they had fallen on hard times long before Pest. Cars in various stages of decay had been abandoned in the streets.

“We could never have driven this,” said Jem.

“Nobody’s got a license,” said Clare. And Ramah, who was usually reserved, laughed until she got the hiccups.

Later, as the rhythmic clip-clop of Sheba’s hooves began to lull Clare towards sleep, she asked, “How long until we get there?”

“Another day,” Jem said.